


Let's do the time warp

by turnitintolove



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Time Travel, in which Jemma gives a little hope to the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitintolove/pseuds/turnitintolove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Jemma gets sent back in time and meets one of her heroes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's do the time warp

**Author's Note:**

> I changed where the Agents of SHIELD season finale fell to work with it.

She doesn’t know where she is. She’s sitting at a table with her hands cuffed to the top.  It looks like an interrogation room; low lighting and what is clearly a one way window. But she still doesn’t know where she is or how she got here.

 

The door opening surprises her out of her thoughts and she eyes the man who saunters in.

 

“Looks like someone is finally awake.” He sits in the chair across from her and glances at the window.   “Care to tell me how you managed to find your way into our secure vault?”

 

Jemma eyes him, “I don’t even know where I am.”

 

The man cocks an eyebrow, “Oh another limey, eh?” He puts on the worst imitation of an accent and smiles, “MI6?  NKVD? Who do you work for?”

 

“SHIELD?”  She tries in a quiet voice.

 

“Who?”  He leans forward on his elbows, cracking his knuckles and trying to intimidate her.

 

“SHIELD, sir.”  She tries again.

 

Then she notices his tie; much wider and shorter that anything Coulson wears.  The lights aren’t fluorescent or LED.  The radiator in the corner looks new but a bit like the ones in the old sub stations.

 

“Oh no.  Sir, what year is it?”  She hesitates.

 

He eyes her, “I don’t have time for this.”   He stands and leaves the room; she can hear him yelling someone’s name as he gets further away from the door.

 

Jemma rests her forehead on the table, squeezing her eyes shut and willing her brain to wake up.  She must be dreaming.  She was talking to Fitz and she must have fallen asleep. She’ll wake up from this bizarre nap and everything will be fine.

 

The door opens again and she groans, squeezing her eyes even harder before lifting her head to look at the newest intruder to her nightmare. What she doesn’t expect is Peggy Carter to sit down.

 

Jemma’s mouth hangs open and she stares at the woman in front of her.  “Oh my god,” she whispers.

 

Across from her, Peggy sighs, “I’m Agent –”

 

“Peggy Carter.  You’re Peggy Carter.”  Jemma finishes with an excited smile.

 

“Yes, well, yes.  How do you know who I am?  Have we met?” Peggy eyes her again, this time with a more critical eye than that of her predecessor.

 

“No.  But I’ve read all about you.  You’re well, you’re my hero.”

 

“Did someone put you up to this? Sneak you into our vault and tell you to tell me such nonsense?”  Her tone is cold and even as she squares her shoulders.  Jemma realizes that she’s somehow hit a nerve.

 

“I don’t know how I got here. Honestly.  I was at work, and then I woke up here.”  Jemma pleads.

 

“Who do you work for?”

 

“SHIELD.”

 

Peggy’s eyes widen, “That’s not possible.” She narrows her eyes and stands, “Wait here.”

 

She’s out the door before Jemma can respond, “I’m handcuffed to the table.”

 

What feels like half an hour later Peggy returns with a key for the handcuffs.  She whispers into her ear, “Agree with everything I say and then you are going to tell me how it is you work for something that only exists on paper.”

 

Jemma nods quickly, rubbing at her wrists and following Peggy out of the interrogation room.  She can’t help the small squeal of glee that escapes her. Peggy only turns to quirk an eyebrow at her, grabbing her wrist and walking into one of the offices.

 

“It seems that one of Howard’s liaisons has gone awry. He must have shown her something in the lab that has erased her most recent memories.”  Peggy tells the man who first tried to interrogate her.

 

“You sure about that Carter?  She seems a little too, I don’t know, mousy for Stark.” He eyes her again.

 

“Excuse me, I-”  Jemma protests.

 

“I’m sure.  As she isn’t fit to be on her own, I will look after her until her memories return.”

 

“Sure thing Marge.”  Peggy’s jaw tightens at the nickname, “Just make sure there’s a fresh pot of coffee before you go.”

 

“Of course, Agent Thompson.”

 

Peggy grips her arm tightly as she pulls Jemma out of the office; bypassing the coffee station and into the elevator. She leads them across the street and walks at a brisk pace until they reach a small park with an empty bench.

 

“Talk.”

 

Jemma sits heavily onto the bench and stares at Peggy again, trying to figure out where to start.  She’s accepted (somehow) that she’s in the past. 1940-something by the looks of the cars and the way Peggy wears her hair.

 

“What year is it?”  Jemma asks.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“The year, what year is it?  I’m assuming somewhere in the 1940’s, late 40’s to be a little more precise.”  Jemma looks around again, trying to piece it together for herself.

 

“1948.  26th of April, 1948.”

 

Jemma blows out a long breath and closes her eyes for a moment.  “Well, uh –”

 

“How do you know about SHIELD?” Jemma notices for the first time that Peggy’s hand rests on a concealed gun. 

 

“I’m from the future!”  She nearly shouts.  “I work for SHIELD in the future.”  She rushes out, staring at Peggy and hoping she’ll believe her.

 

“The future?”  Peggy drawls out.

 

“Yes.  I promise this isn’t a joke.  I’m from 2015. I was born in 1987. And I’m speaking to Peggy Carter, founder of SHIELD in 1948.  Oh my god.” Jemma slumps against the bench, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.  “Oh my god.  I think I’m going to be sick.” She leans over the side of the bench, dry heaving.

 

“It’ll be alright?”  Peggy grimaces, realizing that she’s out of her element. “I just realized, I don’t know your name.”

 

Jemma takes a deep breath and sits back against the bench again, “Jemma Simmons.”  She offers.

 

“Well Miss Simmons, since we don’t know how you got here, I’m going to take you home with me.  We will figure out a plan from there.”  Peggy offers her hand and leads the two of them back towards the street where she hails a cab.

 

Jemma slides into the new but old looking vehicle and sighs, “What am I going to tell Fitz?”  She mumbles into the window.

 

Peggy studies her, the way she sighs, “Who?”

 

“Oh, Fitz.  He’s well, he’s –”

 

“I understand.”  She smiles sadly at her, turning to watch the driver weave through traffic towards her home. 

 

“How are you not freaking out?” Jemma asks.

 

“Freaking out?”

 

“Panicking.  How are you not panicking about what I told you.”  Jemma tries again.

 

“I work with Howard Stark fairly frequently. There isn’t much that ‘freaks me out’ as you put it.”

 

“Stark?  Of course.” Jemma nods to herself.

 

“You know him?”  Peggy asks quietly.

 

“No.  But I’ve met his son.”

 

“Son?  Oh bloody nora.” Peggy groans, “There’s going to be another one.”

 

They’re both quiet after that and Jemma is not at all surprised when they pull up to a tall, fancy looking building. She’s even less surprised when the elevator opens up to the penthouse.  What does surprise her is the voice that calls out.

 

“English?  That you?”  The voice comes from one of the rooms further down the hallway.

 

“Yes, darling.”  Peggy calls back.

 

“What are you doing home?”  The woman steps out from what must be the kitchen, she’s holding potholders in one hand and a knife in the other. “Who’s this?”  She points the knife towards Jemma with a lazy arm.

 

“Angie, this is Jemma.  Jemma, Angie.”

 

Angie eyes her clothes, “Hi.”

 

“Hello.”  Jemma offers a small, awkward wave.

 

“Another English?”

 

Peggy sighs, “Yes, another one. It’s complicated.”

 

“Always is.”  Angie throws over her shoulder as she returns to the kitchen.

 

Peggy shakes her head and Jemma can see the faint traces of an affectionate smile on her lips.  “You can take one of the guest rooms.  I’m sure something of Angie’s will fit you for now.” Peggy leads her up the stairs and into a large bedroom, she leaves again and returns a few minutes later with a few simple outfits.  “These should do for now. Take your time, I’ll be down in the kitchen.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Carter.”

 

“Peggy.  Oh, and don’t tell Angie anything about where you’re from.”

 

“Okay? Thank you, Peggy.”  Jemma smiles gratefully even after the door clicks shut.

 

She finds the adjoining bathroom quickly and decides that a quick bath will help calm her nerves.  “Alright, you’re in 1948. You haven’t been born yet. You’re in Peggy Carter’s home with Peggy Carter.  SHIELD doesn’t exist yet. Everything is going to be fine.”

 

Out of the bath and wrapped in a towel, she inspects the clothes that Peggy brought in for her.  She eyes the pajama set for a moment and decides that it’s been a hard enough day that she can forego the simple dresses the have been laid out. The hallway is quiet as she approaches the staircase, that’s where she can hear lilting laughter from what she guesses is the kitchen.

 

“I can help you know.”  She hears Peggy’s voice as she nears the doorway.

 

“Do you not remember what happened the last time you helped?  Because I do.” The other woman, Angie, replies.

 

“I burned the sauce once.”  Peggy whines.

 

“You set the pot on fire.”

 

“Yes, well you were rather distracting.”

 

She can hear Angie laugh, “You talk too much.”

 

Jemma chooses that moment to quietly step into the kitchen only to see Agent Peggy Carter kissing whom she had thought was her roommate.  Her hands rest low on Angie’s hips while Angie’s arms rest on her shoulders, smiling as she’s being kissed.  Jemma takes a step back out of the kitchen.  A faint blush coloring her cheeks at witnessing what is clearly a private moment.

 

“Well, that’s not in her file.” She whispers to herself. Jemma waits another moment, until she can hear them speaking again before stepping into the kitchen.

 

“How are you feeling?”  Peggy asks, pouring wine into three glasses.

 

“Better.  I think.”  She shrugs.

 

“Well, Other English, I hope you like manicotti.”

 

Dinner with Peggy and Angie is quiet as they all eat and sip at their wine.  She takes the time to study the way Angie glances at Peggy, not subtle at all in their home. Peggy shovels food into her mouth at an alarming speed and Jemma remembers that Peggy grew up with rations and C-Rations in the military.  Angie affectionately roles her eyes and throws her napkin at her when she’s gotten filling on her cheek.

 

Peggy stands when they’ve finished eating, “Why don’t you two head to the sitting room while I clean up?”  She brushes her hand against Angie’s neck and smiles at Jemma.

 

‘Thanks Peg.”  Angie leads the two of them to a room just down the hall, filled with overstuffed sofas and a large fireplace.  Angie studies her for a moment, “The future, huh?”

 

“Pardon?”  Jemma snorts her wine, coughing until her breathing returns to normal.

 

“The future?  Peggy said you somehow appeared from, when was it?”

 

“2015,” she offers.

 

“Right.  What’s it like?”

 

“You believe me?”  Jemma stares at her.

 

Angie shrugs, “Peggy does.  And she doesn’t lie to me.  Except when she tells me that she isn’t going to do something stupid or dangerous.”  She takes another sip of her wine, “So, what’s it like?”

 

Jemma thinks for a moment, “Cleaner?”

 

“Cleaner?”  Angie deadpans, “That’s all you got?  The future is cleaner?”

 

“Technology is better, so is medicine. Everything is more accessible.” She tries not to tell her much, remembering Peggy’s request.

 

“Did Peggy tell you not to tell me things?” Angie narrows her eyes. Jemma hesitates just long enough for Angie to sigh, “She’s no fun sometimes.”

 

Peggy comes into the room with her wineglass and sits next to Angie, “Tell me about SHIELD.”

 

“You get to ask about that new secret project of yours but I can’t ask what the future is like?”  Angie bites at Peggy.

 

“It’s for work?”  Peggy tries.

 

“That is a terrible excuse.  You also use it for everything.”  Angie pulls away just a little from Peggy to take a large gulp of her wine.

 

“I do not!”  Peggy cries.

 

Jemma smiles, ‘This is brilliant.”

 

They both freeze, remembering they aren’t alone. “And what is so _brilliant_ , Other English?”

 

“Peggy Carter, Director and Founder of SHIELD is having a tipsy lover’s quarrel over information about the future!”

 

Jemma watches the color drain from both Peggy and Angie.

 

“A who’s quarrel?”  Peggy asks, slightly out of breath.

 

“A lover’s quarrel?”  Jemma asks, trying to smile and hopefully ease the tension she’s just created.  She watches the two of them tensely move away from each other on the sofa and her heart breaks just a little.  “Of course, it’s 1948.” She whispers mostly to herself. “It’s fine!”  She shouts on accident.

 

“What is fine?”  Angie’s voice is strained, and she looks everywhere except Jemma’s face.

 

“Can I tell you one thing about the future?” She doesn’t wait for an answer from either woman, “It’s fine.  What you have? That you love each other? It’s fine.  It won’t be for a while, but I can promise you that one day you won’t have to hide.”  Jemma gives them what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

 

The room is quiet for a few minutes while they both process the new information, “I’m going to bed.”  Angie says quietly, standing and heading towards the staircase.

 

Peggy drains her glass and sighs, leaning back onto the cushions, “Is that really true?”

 

“Yes.”  Jemma nods, trying her best to give Peggy a reassuring smile.

 

“Her family doesn’t approve.  Gave her an ultimatum, and she chose me.” Peggy smiles sadly, looking towards the doorway Angie had gone through.

 

Jemma thinks about all the things she could tell Peggy; the rise of SHIELD, HYDRA, Captain America out of the ice, The Avengers. There are so many important things in her future that she could tell her about.  Instead she says, “People in the future won’t be afraid to love.”

 

It seems to be the right choice because Peggy smiles again, a little brighter this time.  “I think going to bed sounds like an excellent idea.  If you’re not tired, there’s a nice library further down the hall.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Goodnight, Miss Simmons.”

 

Jemma watches her go.  She thinks about the files she’s read about Peggy Carter; her war record, her love for Steve Rogers, her time at the SSR and eventually founding SHIELD.  It seems too cold and lifeless compared to the woman who was just sitting across from her. The woman who clearly loves so fiercely that there is no record of Angie anywhere in her files. She’s been hidden and kept safe.

 

When she retires up to the guest room, she finds a slip of paper and pen and scribble down a quick note.  Sleep finds her quickly; she dreams of glass boxes and black liquid absorbing her whole.

 

The next morning Peggy finds the room empty. The clothes she had brought in are folded neatly on the vanity, the bedclothes rumpled but empty. The only evidence that Jemma Simmons had ever been there is a piece of paper with her slanted handwriting: _26 June, 2015 Love will win._

**Author's Note:**

> This is not entirely where I was planning for this to go. But it happened and I like it, I hope you did too.
> 
> jellysnack.tumblr.com


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